


On the 23rd of February

by Cadid423



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Canon Compliant, Developing Relationship, F/M, February 23rd, Fluff and Humor, Inter-House Unity, Jealousy, Luna being observant and awesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-07
Updated: 2014-09-07
Packaged: 2018-02-16 10:49:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 12,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2266938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cadid423/pseuds/Cadid423
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ten moments, two people, one day. "Seamus' gaze moves slowly to fixate on a point over Lavender's shoulder and the half-blood stops speaking abruptly, though whether this is because of 'stop-speaking-now' gestures Dean is no doubt making behind Lavender's back or her suddenly sour expression, she isn't completely sure."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. February 23rd, 1992

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Harry Potter is a trademarked brand owned by J.K Rowling and Warner Brothers. Any material used belongs to the aforementioned parties with the exception of two characters of my own creation. This material is only used in recreational purposes and I receive no monetary or material rewards from using it. Please don't sue me.

**February 23rd, 1992**

Lavender Brown is having a crisis. Yes, it's a matter of utmost importance, and no, she isn't exaggerating, no matter what Parvati might say otherwise.

"I just don't see what the big deal is Lav," Parvati says as the two girls relax by the fire in the Gryffindor Common Room. "It's just a quill."

The girl who sits across the rounded table lets out a gasp of horror that's still clearly audible, despite the fact that she's buried her head in her arms. "Parvati!" she hisses scandalously towards the floor, "It's not just any quill: it's my favorite, _lucky_ quill!"

Parvati lifts an unseen, unconvinced eyebrow. "Just because it matches your nail polish doesn't mean it's a good luck charm."

Lavender lifts her curly, dirty blonde head in order to pin her best friend with an incredulous look. "You are seriously underestimating the potentially life-altering magical properties of hot pink and glitter," she informs the Indian girl solemnly.

Parvati rolls her eyes at her friend's dramatics. "And how does this all lead to you failing Charms class?" she asks skeptically.

Lavender finally sits up, crossing her arms with a huff. "You know just as well that I wasn't listening to Professor Flitwick on Wednesday! If I had known he was going to assign an essay for homework I would have paid more attention!"

She sighs, removing her black headband and replacing it one fluid motion. "There's no way I can jarvey my way through this one like I did with that paper on Jupiter's moons, at least not without my lucky quill!"

"Have you looked for it?"

"Only absolutely everywhere!"

"You could borrow my notes," Parvati offers, trying to cheer Lavender up but the other girl just shakes her head miserably.

"It's no use 'Vati. I'm _doomed_."

"Maybe someone's seen it!" Parvati states optimistically. "It's not as if pink quills are all that common, right? We could ask around... maybe someone picked it up by mistake!"

"You really think so?" Lavender asks doubtfully.

"Not really," she answers honestly, and Lavender can see where she's coming from. After all, who would pick up a pink feather on accident? "But it's at least worth a try."

Before the Indian girl can continue, Lavender is up and out of her seat, a determined glint in her eyes as she marches towards where Dean and Seamus play exploding snap in the corner.

"Hey guys! Have either of you two seen a quill?"

Dean looks at her sideways, only half listening as most of his attention is focused on the game. "A quill? You mean, other than the normal ones?"

"Yes, other than the normal ones: it's unique!" Lavender insists, having played exploding snap enough times to know to take advantage of his attention before something blows up. "It's a pink eagle feather and it's really important that I find it soon."

Dean says he hasn't seen it, but Seamus looks at her curiously. "A bright, _bright_ pink? And covered in silver glitter?"

Lavender nods enthusiastically. "You've seen it?" she asks excitedly.

Seamus reaches down by his right side, grabbing the schoolbag which sits at his feet.

"I've got it," he confirms. He digs inside his bag, and sure enough, pulls out the quill in question.

Lavender squeals, hugging the Irish boy around the neck in her excitement. "Oh thank you! I've been looking for this _everywhere_!"

Seamus shrugs, looking awkward as Lavender releases him. "It's no big deal; I only grabbed it because I couldn't believe that someone would actually use such a gaudy thing since its obviously so–"

His gaze moves slowly to fixate on a point over Lavender's shoulder and the half-blood stops speaking abruptly, though whether this is because of 'stop-speaking-now' gestures Dean is no doubt making behind Lavender's back or the blonde's suddenly sour expression, she isn't completely sure.

Lavender reaches across the table to yank her quill from Seamus's grip. "Thanks for picking it up for me _Seamus_." She draws out his name like it's the most insulting thing she can think to call him before flouncing back pointedly to where Parvati continues to work on homework.

"Found your quill then?"

"Yes."

Barely suppressed giggles, "Feel any luckier?"

Lavender throws her best friend a dirty look, "Laugh it up Vati, but I'll show you when I ace this essay!"

And with that, the blonde first-year pulls out her Charms textbook, determined to prove herself _and_ her lucky charm.


	2. February 23rd 1993

**February 23rd, 1993**

Lavender's barely managed to close the door behind her before she's ambushed from three different directions.

Hannah Abbott speaks first, blue eyes glinting with excitement. "Did you do it?"

Lavender blinks slowly, a small surprised smile spreading across her face.

Parvati yells in triumph. "Pay up Susan!" she crows happily, performing an impromptu victory dance, "I told you: Lavender Brown never backs down from a dare!"

The redhead shakes her head, eyeing Lavender's bag with thinly veiled skepticism. "I don't know Parvati. How do I know she really asked him? How do I know she hasn't faked it?"

Parvati and Lavender pause in their dancing, and when the blonde speaks, her tone is dangerous. "Are you calling me a liar?"

Susan shrugs but doesn't apologize. "My Auntie always says that if you don't ask the tough questions-"

"-You're just asking to be screwed over," Hannah finishes with a roll of her eyes. She doesn't seem surprised by Susan's suspicion, but she takes the time to explain it to the offended Gryffindors.

"Susan's aunt works for the DMLE," she says knowledgably. "It's her job to question everything a person tells her and Susan's picked up the habit. Don't take it personally."

This seems to placate the two lions, but it's caused an unforeseen dilemma. "How do you expect her to prove it?" Parvati asks.

"We could just go back downstairs and ask Pr-"

"NO! No way, we can't do that! It was mortifying enough the first time, I can't let him know it was a dare!" Lavender exclaims.

"Does anyone know anybody with another copy?" Hannah asks.

"Hermione Granger's got one," Lavender offers. "I could ask to borrow her card and –"

Susan shakes her head. "That won't work; she's in _Gryffindor_."

The Indian girl stares at her blankly. "So?"

"Conflict of Interest."

The other girls groan but do not argue. Ten sickles are at stake, after all.

Hannah makes another suggestion despite knowing it won't work. "Sally-Anne Perks has one too… but the same thing applies because she's in Hufflepuff."

The foursome fall into quiet, each pondering a method for proving a handwriting sample. It's Parvati who breaks the silence.

"Well..." she starts tentatively, "There's a girl in Ravenclaw who's got one, before you ask, I don't know who. My sister Padma has seen it, and she has a photographic memory. She could probably judge for us if we ask her, but again, conflict of interest."

"I know Padma. We're partners in potions," Susan says, staring off into space as she ponders this possible solution.

Her blue eyes refocus, "Does she know about the bet?"

"No, I didn't tell her because she disapproves of gambling."

Blue eyes meet brown as Susan contemplates the honesty of Parvati's statement. The Indian girl must pass her test, because she starts again with, "That works for me."

…

The trio looks to Parvati for guidance as they look for her twin, and sure enough, Padma Patil sits in the middle of the library, deeply engrossed in a thin leather-bound hardback.

"Padma!" Lavender calls, only to be immediately shushed by the other students. Embarrassed, she lowers her voice to a more reasonable level. "We need your help."

Padma seems faintly annoyed to be pulled away from her novel, but she doesn't verbally complain as she carefully bookmarks the page. "What do you want?"

By way of answering, the blonde Gryffindor reaches into her satchel, withdrawing from its insides a piece of parchment.

Padma inhales sharply as Lavender places the crisp page on the library table, pushing her reading glasses atop her head so as to get a better look.

"Is this real?" she asks disbelievingly.

Susan leans closer, "We were hoping you could tell us."

Padma lifts the signature with only her fingertips as if deathly afraid of smudging the violet ink. The other second years watch with breathless anticipation as she examines the document, all willing to accept her verdict as truth.

"This," Padma starts, carefully handling the parchment as if it were a rare treasure, "Is real."

Parvati smiles sweetly, holding out her palm to her Hufflepuff counterpart with undisguised pleasure, "Ten sickles please."

Susan digs into her pockets, grumbling good naturedly. "I can't believe Lavender actually asked Professor Lockhart for his signature."

Hannah shrugs. "I know I couldn't have done it! I would have been too awestruck to speak."

"I guess Gryffindor courage is all it's cracked up to be."

…

Parvati carefully counts out five sickles, her half of the winnings, before passing them over to her best friend.

"Thanks for doing this Lavender," Parvati starts as they sit on the steps that lead to the sixth floor. "I know I sprung it on you at the last minute."

"I don't mind Vati, that's what friends are for. You totally owe me one though," Lavender adds on at the end.

"No problem," Parvati laughs, clearly excited by the silver in her palm.

"Five sickles Lav! Do you have any idea how many hairclips I could by with five sickles?"

"Six?" Lavender guesses.

"Ten!"

Lavender squeals excitedly, which is a bit of an overreaction, but she's too excited to care. This sets off Parvati's screams, and soon the two are hugging in the middle of the stairwell, jumping up and down, shouting at the top of their lungs, and generally making right fools of themselves.

This soon changes into screams of terror as Seamus Finnigan comes barreling around the corner, shooting off spells in every which direction.

"Seamus!" Lavender yells as she ducks into a nearby alcove, arms braced over her head for protection. "What are you doing?"

Her voice seems to penetrate whatever delusion he's caught in, because the Irish boy lowers his wand, looking about in confusion.

"Are you two okay?"

"We were until you came running in like a madman!" Parvati retorts, brushing dust off her skirt. "What's wrong with you?"

"You girls didn't show up for dinner," Seamus states boldly, as if that statement alone would clear up all confusion.

It does not.

"So?"

Seamus wipes the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand as he tucks his wand back into his pocket. "The others sent me up to look for, what with all the attacks. I heard the screaming and I thou-"

"You thought we were being attacked by the monster," Parvati says with dawning realization.

Seamus shrugs, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly, "Yeah. Sorry 'bout that."

"Wait a second. What others?" Lavender asks.

Judging by Seamus' 'caught' expression, he had really been hoping she wouldn't ask that question. He bits his lip, them murmurs something to the floor.

"What did you say?"

"Tank: T.A.N.K." Seamus says very quickly, his face bright red. "It's a group some of the guys started a while back, it stands for "The Attack Neutralization Committee."

Parvati gives the Irish boy a funny look. "Committee starts with a C," she informs him with the air of someone saying that the sky is blue or the Cannons are terrible.

Seamus' face twists in annoyance. "Yeah, I know, but it wasn't my idea. Anyway, we try to make sure no ne gets left behnd and has to wander the corridors all alone, especially the muggleborns. We're hoping that this will help make sure that no one, or at least not any of the second years, gets attacked."

"So it's you and Ron for Gryfindor, right?" Lavender asks, starting to get the idea. "I mean… Harry's, well, _Harry_ and Neville thinks he's a squib."

Seamus nods, "Yeah. Weasley's always with Harry and Hermione, I try to watch out for you two and Dean, and Neville sort of floats between the two groups."

"So when we didn't turn up for dinner..."

"I came to find you."

Lavender moves forward, a warm feeling bubbling in her chest. "And you just ran in, wand blazing? You didn't think to get a teacher?"

"I wasn't just going to leave you guys here!" he retorts, a red blush overtaking his features. "I know, it was stupid but –"

"It's not stupid! It's brave!" Lavender insists.

Seamus looks shocked. "You think so?"

"Of course!" Lavender startles at the sound of Parvati's voice; for a second she'd forgotten her friend was there too.

"I'm glad our year mates care enough to come looking for us when we don't turn up for dinner!" The dark haired girl's eyes flick between the two curiously, but she doesn't comment further.

"I'm glad you're okay then." Seamus teeters as he considers his next comment, but he steels his nerve enough to make his suggestion. "Would you mind if I walk you two back to the Great Hall? Just to make sure we all get there in one piece?"

He offers both arms, and Lavender loops her own through his right side with no hesitation, Parvati following her lead soon after.

"Of course we don't mind Seamus!"

"After all, it's not every day a girl gets to meet a real knight in shining armor!"


	3. February 23rd, 1994

 

**February 23rd, 1994**

Seamus chews the sample thoughtfully as Lavender watches and again, he hunches over to re-read the accompanying card as if it's the first time he's seen it.

_'New from Honeydukes: Strawberry Milkshake Fudge!'_

The brunette scowls darkly. "That's false advertisement that is! This tastes nothing like a milkshake! What do you think Lavender?"

Seamus turns slightly, eager to hear her opinion on what he clearly believes to be a hot topic, and the girl in question is momentarily stunned by the intensity in his blue eyes.

"I don't know," she admits. "I've never had a milkshake."

Seamus stares at Lavender as if she had just expressed a hidden desire to go on a date with Goyle.

"You've never had a milkshake?"

Lavender doesn't understand his concern. "No. Is that a bad thing?"

His jaw drops open in shock. "Is that a bad thi- Dean!" Seamus bellows suddenly, loud enough for the entire store to hear, eyes still fixed on Lavender. "Move your arse mate! We've got a 219 dash b in the fudge aisle!"

Dean Thomas emerges from the throng of shoppers, and from the solemn expression on his face, you'd have thought the blonde had admitted to armed robbery. The two boys stand shoulder to shoulder, and the obvious height difference would have been comical if Lavender wasn't so confused.

"What've we got Seamus?"

"A 219 dash b: Inability to identify sucky milkshake imitation."

"Why?"

"Subject has never been exposed to the delight of a milkshake."

Like Seamus before him, the black boy shudders, obviously horrified.

"Guys, I really don't think it's –"Lavender tries to cut in, sensing a situation about to get out of hand, but the other two continue to talk over her.

"How do we proceed?"

Seamus considers this, "Jaspin's has a pretty good selection."

"Will she come willingly?"

"She's already showing signs of resistance."

The blonde tries once again to interrupt. "Wait a second! What are you two going –"

"Do you think you can…?"

Seamus's mouth forms a grim line. "Go get the door."

He turns back to Lavender again, looking resigned, "Sorry 'bout this Lavender."

He steps forward, grasps Lavender carefully but firmly around the waist, and hoists her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

Lavender gives a shriek of surprise. "Seamus! What're you- put me down!"

The Irish boy doesn't respond, moving through the still crowded candy store with surprising ease considering he's just gained ninety pounds.

As they head back out into the crisp winter weather, Lavender takes the time to glare at Dean who holds the door open for his best mate and hostage.

Unlike Seamus, whose face Lavender can't see and so is therefore able to ignore her, Dean acknowledges Lavender's irritation.

"Sorry Lavender, but we couldn't take the chance of you doing a runner."

"A runner!" Lavender hisses, as if lowering her voice will give passersby fewer reasons to stare. "Why would I a pull a runner? I don't even know where we're going!"

Dean looks surprised but answers her implied question. "We're going to Jaspin's!" He states as if that should have been obvious. Lavender simply glares harder in response, and Dean correctly interprets that to mean 'keep talking'.

"Jaspin's is the only place in Hogsmead that sells milkshakes."

This does not please the girl. " _That's_ what this is about? Me not knowing if some weird fudge is favored correctly!" Lavender fixes her glare on the left shoulder of Seamus's jacket. "You'd better not set me down Seamus Finnigan, or I might do something _you'll_ regret!"

To Lavender's credit, Seamus's tromps through the snow do falter for a spilt second. "That's a chance I'm willing to take," he comments with the air of someone agreeing to jump out of an airplane, readjusting his grip on the back of Lavender's stocking-covered legs.

When the trio arrives at their destination, Dean takes the lead. While he orders, Lavender uses the time to observe her surroundings. The floor is made up of pink and blue tile arraigned in a checkerboard pattern that gives the vague impression of cotton candy. The off-white walls are covered in neon signs promoting the establishment, Jaspin's, and if the people in the old-school black and white photographs that adorn the walls didn't dance to inaudible music, Lavender would think she had been dragged into a muggle soda shoppe.

By some small mercy, no one Lavender knows is here to witness her embarrassing predicament. The expectant mother who waits in line behind them however is clearly perplexed by the sight of a Hogwarts student carrying a fellow classmate around like a slouchy tote, but Lavender attempts a casual smile as if to say, _'Oh, I do this all the time. I'm not weird.'_

Dean comes back into Lavender's limited range of vision for a moment before Seamus turns around and blocks the view, no doubt intending to follow the muggle-born to a table.

Seamus stops by a corner table then stoops low and deposits Lavender into a nearby chair, his hands raised in the universal sign of surrender while he backs away: as if the blonde were a wild beast liable to charge without warning.

Lavender can't resist an eye roll. _'Boys,'_ she thinks.

Dean sets three drinks on the table: one a minty green, one a swirl of white and black specs, and the last, this one obviously meant for Lavender, a soft pink.

The two choose, wisely, in Lavender's opinion, to sit across from her on the opposite side of the table. She stares at them silently, arms crossed and eyebrow raised, taking great pleasure from their obvious discomfort.

"Well?" Dean asks finally, cracking under the brown eyed girl's gaze. "Are you going to try it?"

By way of answer, Lavender slowly unwraps a straw, poking a hole through the mountain of whipped cream and taking a sip without ever averting her gaze.

And she has to admit, it is pretty good. When she voices that opinion aloud, the two friends sigh in relief as if that alone gets them off the hook. If only they knew.

They dig into their desserts eagerly, and Lavender takes a few more hearty sips of her own drink before setting it to the side.

Unsurprisingly, Seamus notices the action. "Aren't … aren't you going to finish that?" He asks.

Lavender gives the milkshake a glance before shaking her head. "No."

"Why not? You said you liked it!"

Lavender sighs at their naivety. "Do you have any idea how many calories that probably has?"

Judging from their blank expressions, there's a good chance that they've never heard the word calories used in a sentence. Lavender tries again with a simpler version. "It'll make me fat."

Seamus gives her a funny look before shaking his head decisively. "I don't think you have to worry about that Lav," he says seriously. "Enjoy the shake. After all, Dean paid for it."

Lavender hesitates but drags the pink concoction back across the table despite herself.

As she takes another delicious sip, her eyes sparkle contemplatively. _'Perhaps… I'll let this one go, just this once.'_


	4. February 23rd, 1995

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special A/N: This is a chapter that might not make as much sense if you're not familiar with the events of 'Forgotten Patchworked Quilts'. If you are confused, please glance through that fic because the motive/reasoning behind many of Seamus's actions are explained there. I'll try to make it as clear as possible for first timers, but it might not be perfect. You have been warned. :)

**February 23rd, 1995**

Seamus wakes up groggy and disoriented. He's not sure what _exactly_ woke him from his slumber, and normally he'd just roll over and return to dreamland, but the unease that thrums through his body in sync with his heartbeat is _anything_ but normal.

He sits up slowly, still half asleep but sure of his instincts, and does a quick survey of his dorm. To his immediate right, Seamus can just make out the sleeping form of Dean Thomas. Across the way, the curtains around Neville's bed are drawn, but the soft snuffling snores that emit from behind them signify the pure-blood's presence. The curtains around Harry's bed are drawn as well and this immediately raises a mental red flag. Harry rarely closes his bed hangings, only doing so when he's upset about something or has snuck out after hours. Judging by the similarly unoccupied four-poster between Harry and Neville, Ron never made it up to bed either.

Like many sleepy realizations, the half-unconscious stupor that comes from waking in the middle of the night allows Seamus to put two and two together.

Last Seamus saw him, Harry was in the common room, pouring over a mountain of heavy tombs. At the sight of Ron's empty bed, Seamus remembers his earlier fleeting misgivings over the sight: _'I wonder where Weasley and Granger are? Can't imagine Hermione would leave Potter alone with all those books, and you never see two without the third…'_

Actually, now that Seamus is taking the time to comb back through his memory, the sandy haired fourth year can't remember seeing _either_ of his two classmates after dinner at all. With a growing sense of dread Seamus pulls back the bedcovers, swinging bare feet over the edge to the floor, and grabbing his souvenir Ireland vs. Bulgaria jacket as walks towards the nearby door on his left.

Surely enough, Harry Potter is _not_ still studying in the common room like Seamus had foolishly hoped, and the sight of the abandoned library books still sitting by the fireplace do nothing to calm his nerves.

 _'Where have they all gone?'_ Experience would say that they've all snuck out again, but seeing as though tomorrow is the second task, Seamus just can't see the trio risking any advantage possibly gained by a full night's sleep.

And perhaps it's because Seamus is alone in the night-darkened common room well past normal waking hour, but Seamus can't help the sudden need to confirm Hermione's whereabouts. If the muggle-born witch _is_ in her dorm, then Seamus will know it's just Weasley and Potter on another one of the hair-brained schemes, and if he's lucky, Hermione might even know where they've gone. If she isn't however, this could mean one of two things: a) the three of them are going over last-minute battle plans for tomorrow, or b) Granger and Weasley are… missing? This last option doesn't really explain where Harry's vanished off to, but at the moment, it's the option Seamus believes is most likely senario.

Jaw set, Seamus hurries over to the girl's staircase. He doesn't dare climb the stone steps, but if he squints his eyes the right way, he can just make out the engraving on the closest door: Fourth Years.

Seamus removes the trainers he'd hastily shoved his feet into without tying them in his hurry to get downstairs and aims one carefully. He's only got two shots at this; he needs to make them count.

The Irish boy readies his arm and throws the sneaker up the steps. The sturdy rubber sole makes solid contact with the door before bouncing across the landing out of sight. Seamus repeats the process, flinging the shoe at the wooden door with as much force and accuracy as he can manage at one in the morning.

All he can hope for now is that whoever's bed is closest to the door is a light sleeper and curious enough to investigate the cause of the racket. Seamus waits not even thirty seconds before the door opens slowly, familiar brown eyes peeking out with interest.

"Lavender," Seamus calls up the staircase, taking care not to wake anyone else. "Lavender, is Hermione up there?"

The blonde stares at Seamus blankly for a moment before she bursts into action. "Seamus!" she hisses back, running her fingers hurriedly through sleep tousled hair. "What do you want? It's one o'clock in the morning!"

"Is Hermione up there?" Seamus repeats a bit impatiently. "Did she ever go to bed?"

Lavender frowns, stilling the fingers still tangled in her hair. "Hermione? Why do you need to talk to _Hermione_?"

"I don't need to talk to her! I just want to know if she's in your dorm."

Lavender eyes him suspiciously, but thankfully does as he asks. She appears a moment later, her distrust fading into confusion. "She's not here," she informs him, obviously perplexed. "That's odd. It's not like her to break curfew."

Seamus goes for his second question, all too aware of the rising panic in his voice. "Did you see her in the common room? Did she ever come back from the library?"

This time Lavender steps out of her room fully, closing the door behind her with a soft thump.

"Seamus," she starts slowly, fear seeping into her voice as well. "What's wrong?"

Immediately, Seamus feels terrible for frightening her. "It's probably nothing."

"It's obviously not nothing if you've resorted to throwing your trainers at the girl's dormitory," Lavender informs him, nudging a dirty piece of footwear with a slipper clad foot, suddenly cross again. "What's happened?"

Seamus runs a hand through his sandy hair. "It's just… Ron and Harry aren't in bed, and I can't remember if Weasley ever came back from the library, so I was trying to see if Hermione was gone as well, or if she wasn't, if she knew where the blokes were."

Lavender's shoulders sag in relief. Clearly, she doesn't consider this something to fret about. "Is that all? Seamus, you _know_ how those three are! This isn't the first night they've been out after hours!"

Seamus sighs, stressed and exasperated. Lavender makes it sound like Seamus's worries are ridiculous!

"Yeah, I know but-"he cuts himself off mid-sentence, exhaling deeply. "I just had a bad feeling, that's all," he explains.

Lavender smiles, "We all get those sometimes, but I'm sure they're fine." With those closing words she disappears back into her dorm. Seamus stares at the spot she vacated for a few seconds longer, still unconvinced.

"Yeah… maybe."


	5. February 23rd, 1996

**February 23rd, 1996**

Two weeks ago, Lavender Brown wouldn't be caught dead reading the Quibbler, but desperate times call for desperate measures, and Educational Decree #27 could definitely be classified as _desperate._

Like any gossip monger worth her salt, Lavender watched with perked ears and wide eyes as Umbridge waddled towards the hoard of owls fighting for table space over at the Gryffindor table, or more specifically, the recipient of these letters: Harry Potter.

"What is going on here?" she says, voice dripping in falsely sweetness. "Why have you got all these letters, Mr. Potter?"

"Is that a crime now?" says one of the Weasley twins loudly. "Getting mail?"

"Be careful, Mr. Weasley, or I shall have to put you in detention," says Umbridge. "Well, Mr. Potter?"

"People have written to me because I gave an interview," says Harry. "About what happened to me last June."

"An interview?" repeats Umbridge, her voice thinner and higher than ever. "What do you mean?"

"I mean a reporter asked me questions and I answered them," says Harry. "Here -"

He threw something across the table at the squat witch, and the students watched with baited breath as Umbridge purpled with rage. She murmured something that even Lavender's highly trained ears couldn't quite catch, before taking a deep breath and, thankfully, continuing at a more eavesdropper-friendly volume.

"I have tried again and again to teach you not to tell lies. The message, apparently, has still not sunk in. Fifty points from Gryffindor and another week's worth of detentions."

As she walks away, Lavender and Parvati stand, both sensing a golden opportunity to sniff out this new gossip and annoy Umbridge at the same time.

"Luna!" Parvati calls, on better speaking terms with the oddball fourth-year than Lavender, "What's going on?"

The blonde was making her way back to the Ravenclaw table after speaking with Harry, but turns at the sound of Parvati's voice. Oddly though, her eyes fixed not on the Indian teen, but on Lavender with interest, possibly believing that she was the one who spoke.

"Professor Umbridge wasn't very pleased with the cover story of this month's Quibbler. She's banned Harry from Hogsmeade as punishment, which doesn't seem quite fair. Perhaps she's never heard of freedom of speech or press. Likelier, the wrackspurts have finally gotten to her," Luna answers in her normal dreamy tone.

Parvati ignores the mention of imaginary creatures with practiced ease. "Is the article _really_ about what happened during the third task?"

Luna nods her head in the affirmative, but still, she doesn't turn away from her fellow blonde.

Lavender meets Parvati's eyes bewilderedly, but at her friend's questioning glance, she signals her to keep asking questions. This is _far_ too important to be put off by Lovegood's weirdness.

"Where can we buy one?"

"If you've both got a knut, I've extra copies in my bag."

The two Gryffindors dig into pockets and schoolbags eagerly for bronze coins, both all too aware of the many students watching them. Throughout this entire transaction, not once do Luna's silvery-blue orbs ever once flicker from Lavender's eyelashes, and eventually, she becomes uncomfortable with the attention.

"Why are you staring at me?" This comes out ruder than she'd intended, but Lavender feels she's entitled to her ire. Suddenly, a horrific thought strikes her. "Is there something in my teeth?"

She turns to Parvati panicked, lips stretched wide to reveal pearly whites. "Is der someing in mah tee?"

Luna shakes her head slowly, eyes wider than ever. "Don't be too hard on him. He'll eventually come around."

She smiles as if this statement was no more confusing than a prediction of rain before continuing towards her house table, this time skipping.

Lavender glances at her best friend, Parvati looking as confused as she feels.

"What does that mean?" the Indian girl asks no one in particular.

"I have no idea."

…

Left to their own devices, it probably wouldn't have taken Lavender, Parvati, and the few other random witnesses to this morning's spectacle very long to spread the word about the Quibbler: one, maybe two days max. But as she said before, Educational Decree #27 might be a desperate attempt to squash gossip, but it also doubles as a more efficient advertisement than anything Lavender could have thought up by herself.

So it's an extremely satisfied Lavender Brown who browses the Herbology section of the library later that afternoon. The blonde is very impressed with article, and if the conversations in the girl's washroom are anything to go by, the students feel the same way. Many are starting to at least doubt the truthfulness of the Ministry's version of events if they're not completely swayed to the opposing viewpoint.

"Hey, Lavender," says a familiar voice from behind her, interrupting her musings.

Lavender stiffens. She hasn't been sure of how to act around her… _friend_ this year, so instead of enticing conflict, she's been outright avoiding him.

"Seamus," she acknowledges icily, arms crossed over her chest defensively, the expression that paints her pretty features not inviting conversation.

Seamus falters, clearly not expecting her to so outwardly hostile. "How- how have you been?"

Lavender snorts without humor and turns back to the bookshelf.

"I've been good," he continues with only the barest trace of awkwardness. "Bit lonely but… you know how it is."

The blonde grabs a random title off the shelf and drops into a library chair violently, riffling through the pages without reading them.

Seamus makes an attempt to take the seat to her right, but Lavender lifts her feet to occupy the space before he can. Without so much as a pause in his strident gate, he settles for leaning against the table with casual irritation.

"So… Umbridge huh?" he starts again with forced lightness. Inwardly, Lavender is impressed: she'd forgotten how stubborn Seamus could be. "Horrible isn't she? Don't know how I manage to get through that awful textbook of hers. If I'd known I be subjected to school-sanctioned torture twice a week, I might not have come back this year," he jokes, but still, Lavender ignores him.

Seamus sighs. "What do I have to do to get you to talk to me?"

Lavender glares with as much fury as she can muster before raising the book to her face pointedly, blocking him from view.

The Irish boy is having none of that though. With strength Lavender hadn't expected, the tugs on the back of her chair. It tilts on its hind legs like a wheelbarrow and Seamus uses the momentum to turn the chair around, Lavender dropping her book in surprise as he does so. He kneels infront of her so as to be at her eye-level, his blue eyes beseeching.

"Lavender," Seamus says, voice tired and serious. For the first time, Lavender notices that his voice has lowered a whole octave, his jawline much more prominent than she remembers. "I know I've been acting like a real prat this year. I know that I've made some shoddy decisions about Professor Dumbledore and Harry, and I _know_ I haven't had me priorties straight and that you've been avoiding me because of it. Believe me, Dean has pointed it all out _many_ times. I know that you're pissed with me for being so thick, and you have no reason to help me, but I think I've finally got it figured out. And I'm sorry it's taking me so long, but can I please, _please_ borrow your copy of the Quibbler?"

It takes Lavender a moment to react. Had Seamus's eyes _always_ been that bright of a blue?

Once she regains her wits, she tugs her wrists from his suddenly slackened grip. He looks so earnest as he stares up at her that she's tempted to forgive Seamus's behavior this year. She doesn't though, because it's not her place to do so. This is a situation is of Seamus' making; it's up to him to fix it.

Instead, she stands slowly, reaches into her bag, and hands him this month's copy of the Quibbler.

"It's not me you should be apologizing to," she informs him quietly.

 _'Remember Lavender, you're angry with Seamus,'_ she mentally chides herself as she flees the library, fighting to hide a blush. _'You did not find that mildly attractive. Do not be swayed by his gorgeous blue eyes.'_


	6. February 23rd, 1997

**February 23** **rd** **, 1997**

' _I am not jealous,'_ Seamus tells himself firmly as he makes his way to the seventh floor.

' _I am not jealous!'_

Slam!

The portrait hole closes with a satisfying thump and Seamus can hear the Fat Lady cursing his name on the other side. Normally Seamus would ensure that any doors he might slam when frustrated didn't house sentient beings, but the temptation was too powerful to resist.

The Gryffindor Common Room is surprisingly empty for the middle of a Sunday, so it's easy for Seamus to throw himself onto an empty couch and brood. He takes the one that's angled to face the entrance, entirely willing to wait as long as he has to for Lavender and Weasley to come back.

Seamus has every right to be upset. He _cannot believe_ that after all that nagging, Lavender couldn't manage to walk her cute behind down to the third floor and to the study session she manhandled him into.

He's therefore slightly disappointed that the next person to give the Fat Lady the appropriate password is Hermione Granger. The Muggleborn looks as peeved as Seamus feels, so he's rather surprised that instead of isolating herself like he did, she purposefully marches towards the only occupied couch, stares at him impatiently until he moves over enough to make room for her, and sits down without asking, muttering under her breathe the entire time.

And despite the fact that Seamus rarely has any sort of interaction with Hermione, he's pretty sure he knows what's gotten her so upset.

"How do you stand it?" she asks finally, cinnamon brown eyes glinting with indignation.

Seamus leans back into the left armrest, surprised at her bluntness. He almost pretends to not know what she's talking about, because it's not really any of her business, but she's _Hermione Granger_. She quite possibly knows the secrets of the universe; she could definitely tell if he's lying.

"Which part?"

Hermione sighs, pushing her wildly curly hair away from her face, a good portion of it having escaped her blue hair tie. "All of it I suppose. It's just every time I see him with, with _her_ I-"she cuts herself off abruptly before she can say something insulting, acutely aware of her chosen company. "I'm sorry Seamus. I know that you…" Hermione trails off as Seamus holds up a hand.

"It's fine Hermione. I'm certainly not looking to pay _Weasley_ any compliments." The stronger-than-usual bitterness in his tone comes from his most recent incident with the 'happy couple', and Hermione easily picks up on it.

"What's happened this time?" she asks knowingly.

"You know how we had apparition lessons yesterday? Well, Lavender's still having a lot of problems with the three D's or whatever. I'm no great shakes at it meself, but I'm better than she is, so she asked me to help her with the theory or something. I don't really know how she expected me to do much of anything because you can't apparate in-"

"You can't apparate inside Hogwarts, yes I know." Hermione looks surprised as she finishes his sentence for him, but she motions for him to keep talking.

"Well, I probably waited a good half hour down in classroom 32, but she never turned up. I suppose Weasley held her up but-"

"Ron and Lavender are snogging in that alcove off the fourth floor: the one hidden behind the curtain," Hermione interrupts again.

"Err… right. Okay," he says, frowning slightly. He's becoming increasingly aware of why he doesn't talk to Granger very often. Does have to keep doing that?

He doesn't make another attempt to finish the story, instead choosing to ask a question of his own. "Is that what's gotten _your_ feathers all ruffled?"

"Well if you _must_ know, I was coming back from the library, and, well, I sort of stumbled upon them."

Seamus snorts back, "I'm sure they were right happy to see you."

Hermione blushes, but looks a bit downcast as she answers. "I honestly don't think they even noticed I was there."

Seamus leans forward, intrigued. "If you fancy Ron so much, why haven't you made a move before now? I mean, I know that the girl always expects the guy to make the first move but-"

Hermione blushes even harder. "What! I never said I fancied Ron! Why would you think that? It's just rude of them to be so obvious with their affection, that's all! They're going to permanently scar the first-years, just you wait."

Seamus looks at her incredulously as she rambles, but chooses not to argue.

"Okay then! What about you! Why haven't you asked Lavender out yet?" Hermione asks, desperate to redirect the questioning.

Because Lavender Brown is one of the prettiest witches Seamus has ever laid eyes on, and when it comes to her, you either go big or go home. By the time Seamus got his act together, she was already sucking face with Weasley. But Seamus doesn't tell Hermione that, because two can play the denial game.

"Who said I liked Lavender? I only said that watching her and Weasley tromp all over the castle was annoying: just like you did. I never said I fancied her."

Hermione glares at him, but Seamus just leans into the red plush upholstery, throwing an arm over the back of the loveseat comfortably, a smirk spreading across his face. Hermione can't have it both ways and she knows it.

At this same moment, two people burst through the portrait hole noisily. The happily grins on Ron and Lavender's faces slide off quickly at the sight of Hermione and Seamus talking quietly on the couch. At first the Irish teen doesn't understand what their problem is… but then he realizes how close he and Hermione have become during their intense conversation.

Lavender looks like she's just swallowed a lemon, and after being blown off not even an hour earlier, Seamus feels no obligation to explain the situation to her. On her right, Ron Weasley is doing a very convincing impression of a tomato, but Hermione gazes at him calmly, almost daring him to say something. The redhead flounders a while for something to say, but with one last dirty look at Seamus, Lavender drags him across the room.

Seamus doesn't look at Hermione, but he makes no motion to pull away as they stare at the retreating couple.

"Bet you enjoyed that reaction, didn't you?"

"Very much so."

Because Seamus Finnigan _isn't_ jealous.

(At least, not as long as Hermione Granger isn't either.)


	7. February 23rd, 1998

**February 23** **rd** **, 1998**

A light taping on his face rouses him, but it's the worried quiver in a familiar voice that convinces him to open his eyes.

"Seamus, you need to wake up."

Seamus blinks once, twice, and the heart shaped face of Lavender Brown comes into sharp focus.

"Seamus?" she asks hopefully. "Can you hear me?"

"Hi," he answers lightly, and Lavender relaxes, removes a rag from a bowl of water at her side, and rewards him with a small smile.

"You gave us quite a scare there mate," Anthony Goldstein pipes up, and belatedly, Seamus realizes that every Gryffindor and Ravenclaw member of the DA are crowded around him, all with varying degrees of worry painted across their faces.

Seamus struggles to sit up and winces as his head throbs painfully. For some odd reason, all of the men are without shirts, but Seamus decides not to point this out lest it be his imagination. "What happened?"

Parvati looks concerned. "Don't you remember?"

"He probably has a concussion Vati," Lavender answers, ringing a bundle of white fabric of its excess water, and dabs at Seamus's face with the wet cloth. "Memory loss is one of the symptoms." She settles more comfortably in preparation for storytime. "We were in Muggle Studies and Alecto was lecturing about baseball."

"Which was stupider than usual, because baseball isn't even a European sport," Seamus remembers vaugely.

Neville nods. "And she heard you say that, remember? And then she said… she said those things about- about your dad."

Seamus's hands clench automatically in anger, but his friends aren't stupid enough to remind him of what exactly the professor said.

"You just blew up Seamus," Terry Boot says, clearly awed. "I seriously thought you were going to attack her."

Padma takes the next part. "When you finally stopped shouting, Carrow conjured up a… I'm not sure what it was exactly, but I think it was supposed to be a baseball bat." She sounds horrified just by the memory. "It- it wasn't right though, because she didn't really understand the transfiguration: she didn't know what a bat looked like, what it's used for."

Michael Corner looks solemn, and Seamus knows this is the worst part of the tale. "She came after you with it, the bat I mean. You dodged the first swing… but that just made her angrier." He shakes his head disgustedly. "Neville and I had to hold Lavender down to keep her from using herself as a human shield."

"She hit you," Lavender murmurs, and it's only because she's the closest that Seamus manages to hear her. "There was _so_ much blood; it was terrifying. I couldn't… I thought she was going to kill you."

Seamus swallows, his mouth suddenly dry. "And then?" he croaks.

"The bell rang, and she _finally_ stopped. You got to your feet and sort of staggered out of the classroom. I've no idea how, but you made it three corridors over before you collapsed. By then we'd already caught up with you, and I caught you before you fell," Anthony Goldstein continues. "Terry and I carried you in here, but you were still bleeding badly, so we took off our shirts," he gestures to his bare torso, "and tried to patch you up."

"But neither of us know anything about Muggle medicine, so we weren't really doing anything besides wasting time." Terry looks to Lavender gratefully. "Thank goodness you took charge."

"I would have been here sooner if _somebody_ ," Lavender gives Neville a pointed look, "Hadn't tried to drag me off!"

Neville looks sheepish. "How was I supposed to know that you knew first aid?" He rolls his eyes as Lavender sniffs distainfully. "What did you expect Lavender? You were practically hysterical at first; you kneed Michael in the stomach!"

Lavender clearly believes his reasoning to be insufficient. "He tried to drag me off!" she insists, but Seamus understands Neville's thought process and when he catches the pureblood's eye, he nods his thanks.

"Anyway," Parvati cuts in firmly. "Lavender heard Anthony and Terry panicking in here, and that must've restarted her brain because the next thing you know she was screaming about bandages and the time a few summers ago that I was at her house, fell down the stairs, and twisted my ankle." At Seamus's confused look, she expands. "Lavender's the one who took care of me until her mum got home from work."

"So they _finally_ realized that I was the only one who knew anything about medicine and let me go." As Lavender says this she tosses her blonde curls over her shoulder, revealing a pale pink strap Seamus hadn't noticed before. His eyes follow the fabric back to its origins, and Seamus stares at Lavender's chest for an embarrassingly long time before his brain comprehends what he's seeing.

"You're not wearing a shirt."

Lavender glances down as if this is the first time she's noticed. "No, I'm not," she says agreeably.

"You're not wearing a- Bloody hell!" Seamus forces himself to look back at Lavender's face. "You're not wearing a shirt! Why aren't you wearing a shirt?"

Michael rolls his eyes good naturedly but can't resist a small jib. "Took you long enough to notice, you hard-headed git."

"That's probably our fault Seamus," Anthony says, motioning between himself and Terry and ignoring Michael with patient ease. "We weren't applying enough pressure to your wounds; you just kept bleeding. By the time Lavender got in here our shirts were basically useless so bloody they were, so she made us try again with hers."

"I went and fetched a needle and thread from the dorm," Parvati says.

"And I gave her some Spello-tape," Michael comments again, this time helpfully.

"And Lavender healed you, woke you up, and here we are," Neville finishes.

Seamus meets Lavender's eyes again, and the blonde interprets his questioning look correctly.

"Your nose is broken," she supplies helpfully. "The cut over your eye needed stitches, there's a nasty bruise across your right arm and shoulder, and you probably have a concussion."

Lavender reels all this off in such a matter-of-fact tone that Seamus doesn't question her. One oddity does catch his attention though, and he looks at her curiously as he lifts himself to his feet.

"Why didn't you take me to the infirmary?" he asks. "What's with all the Muggle stuff? Not that you didn't do an excellent job Lav, because you totally did." He adds the last bit on the end hurriedly, not wanting to insult her.

Lavender doesn't seem offended, but it's Neville who answers. "As part of your punishment, Alecto forbid you to use magic to heal yourself or," he continues quickly as Seamus opens his mouth to object, "To have anyone else use _their_ magic either. Something about 'until you can learn the difference between _us_ and _them_ , you will deal with the consequences like they would.'"

The pureblood shakes his head as if that will erase the memory. "I'm glad you're okay Seamus," he says sincerely.

Seamus smiles, "Me too."

One by one they all file out, each person offering their own condolences until it's just Lavender, who somehow manages to look vulnerable and strong at the same time. Seamus knows her well enough to be able to tell when there's something on her mind, so he waits patiently for her to speak.

"I was _so_ _worried_."

Seamus isn't sure if she expects him to respond to that, but he does anyway.

"I know." That's why Neville didn't want her around. Seamus hates it when Lavender cries, and the half-blood is sure that she's shed many tears in the last hour or two.

Lavender hesitates for a moment, fiddling with her white rag nervously. Then she steps forward, lifts herself up on tiptoe, and brushes her lips gently against his.

The kiss is brief but meaningful, the action conveying what words can't.

No other words are spoken as they make their way back to Gryffindor Tower , Seamus's arm wrapped gingerly around Lavender's waist.

Seamus doesn't mean to make her worry...

(...but that isn't going to stop him from fighting for his beliefs.)


	8. February 23rd, 1999

**February 23rd, 1999**

"Please?"

"No."

" _Pleas_ e _?_ "

"No."

There's silence for a moment as Lavender finishes the cover article of this month's Quibbler and Seamus takes another swig of his orange juice. It seems for a few seconds that Seamus has given up his ridiculous quest, but just as Lavender reaches an article about the expansion of St. Mungo's intensive care unit, the Irish man starts again.

" _Pretty_ please?"

"Seamus!" Brown eyes peer angrily over the morning newspaper to glare at the sandy-haired classmate sitting across the table. Seamus Finnigan smiles at her as he stirs more sugar into his oatmeal.

"What?" he asks innocently.

Lavender rolls her eyes at her boyfriend's antics as she finally gives up trying to read in peace.

"You are so immature," she informs him as she tucks the magazine into her bag.

Seamus grins cheekily. "If I just keep asking Lav, eventually you'll say yes."

"Seamus," she sighs exasperated, "How many times do I have to say it? I'm not going to skip class with you."

Seamus pouts rather adorably, his sandy bangs falling into his eyes. "Why not? It's not as if you've got anything better to do."

"Did you not hear me the first time? We've got _class_."

"So?"

"It's NEWT year! It's bad enough that we had to repeat seventh year once; I'm definitely not going to risk flunking out of school to fulfill your flight of fancy."

Seamus frowns. "You've been spending too much time with Hermione."

" _Seamus_!" Lavender draws out his name as if that will emphasize her point. "We might miss something important if we skive off!"

"You're not going to miss anything that will ruin your grades Lav," he says confidently. "It's no big deal! What classes do you have today anyway?"

Lavender reaches into her bag for her schedule and withdraws it with an extra flourish, again trying to add weight to her side of the argument. Seamus casually reaches across the table and plucks the list from the blonde's fingertips.

"Give that back!" Lavender exclaims, making a grab for the paper, but Seamus dodges her, leaning as far back on the bench as he can without falling off, head cocked to the side as he reads.

"Nine thirty, NEWT Divination."

"I love that class!"

"And Professor Trelawney loves you," Seamus counters swiftly. "She won't mind if you skip one time." He continues reading along the Tuesday column. "Eleven thirty, Care of Magical Creatures: Advanced."

Lavender opens her mouth to insist on attending, but Seamus shoots her down before she can. "You've been working part-time at the Magical Menagerie every summer since you were fourteen; you must be at _least_ a week ahead of lessons."

Lavender blushes but doesn't argue: mostly because she can't.

"Two o'clock, History of Magic," Seamus looks up at her, disbelief painted clearly across his features. "You're joking, right?"

Lavender can already feel her resolve crumbling and is mere seconds away from announcing her change of heart before...

"Please Lavender?" Seamus tries again, probably prepared to do pretty much anything to convince his girlfriend of his 'bloody brilliant' idea. Lavender has pretty much already decided to agree with him, but hesitates just to see what else he's willing to offer.

"I'll get on my knees and beg," he threatens. "I've done it before; don't think I won't do it again."

And Lavender really should know by now that doubting Seamus's word only leads to chaos, so it's no real surprise that Seamus does exactly as he says he will. He comes around to Lavender's side of the table, kneels against the flagstone, weaves his fingers together and clasps them in the classic begger's pose.

Lavender can't help but be torn between being thankful that the Great Hall is practically empty right now and wishing that more people were around to witness how determined her boyfriend is to please her.

"Please skip class with me today Lavender. It'll be loads of fun! We could hang out and relax, and I'll order some of those peppermint patties from Jaspin's that you love so much even though you always deny wanting any. You'll complain the entire time about ruining you figure or something, but you'll eat almost all of them anyway."

' _How on Earth could he possibly…?'_ Seamus mistakes Lavender's rapid blinking and gaping jaw for distaste instead of surprise, and continues to detail his plans for the day.

"And then at tea time, we could go and sit outside because you like to hear the birds chirping while you drink your earl grey."

"Seamus," Lavender interrupts softly, but the taller man doesn't seem to hear her.

"You'll try to make me have some tea too because that's the 'proper' way to enjoy an afternoon, but I'll just have a butterbeer like I normally do, and you'll roll your eyes at me but you won't really mind."

"Seamus," Lavender tries again.

"And I really wanted you to take a break from school, because I know you've been really stressed lately about NEWT's."

He points to the large mug sitting idly by Lavender's long-since-forgotten blueberry muffin. "You hate the taste of coffee and only drink it when you're tired, and you've had at least two cups with breakfast every day this week. And I don't understand why you keep studying so hard when exams are at least three months away, but I didn't want to say anything about it because you're really into independence and –"

Unable to get him to listen, Lavender silences Seamus the most loving way she can think of.

She leans down, tangles her fingers into his ever so slightly shaggy hair, and slants her lips across his open mouth. When she pulls away, Seamus blinks at her owlishly before his confusion melts into a pleased grin.

"Is that a yes then?" he asks hopefully.

Lavender rolls her eyes but her smile is fond.

"You're such a dork Seamus." _'A ridiculously sweet dork, but a dork none the less,' she mentally amends. "_ Of _course_ that's a yes: a quick little holiday sounds absolutely wonderful."

Seamus fist pumps, his blue eyes sparkling. He stands abruptly, almost vibrating with excitement as he makes his request, "Meet me in the Room of Requirement when you're done with your food."

He grabs a bagel and rushes off, but he only makes it about five steps before he turns and runs right back to his previous position. He crouchs back down so that he's only a little above the blonde's eye level before leaning over and giving Lavender a quick kiss goodbye.

"Sorry," he murmurs against her lips. "I forgot."

He really does manage to leave this time, Lavender's amused brown eyes following him as he goes. She glances appraisingly at the almost full cup of black coffee sitting in front of her before grabbing a clean glass and filling it with water, making a mental note not to underestimate Seamus's perceptiveness in the future.


	9. February 23rd, 2000

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special A/N: Shout out to SummerW, who did all of the Irish translations in this chapter. I don't speak a lick of Gaelic/Irish, so her help with this is chapter ridiculously appreciated and praised. Also, in my head-canon, Seamus's parents are divorced and his mother took back her maiden name.

**February 23** **rd** **, 2000**

Seamus wakes slowly as the first hints of sunlight stream through the stone windows in his bedroom. He remembers too late to mind the blonde witch sleeping next to him, and it's his lazy stretching that rouses her.

"Hmmm," she mumbles. "Is it morning already?"

Seamus chuckles. "Yeah, but we can probably get away with sleeping in for at least another fifteen minutes before breakfast is ready."

Lavender buries her head into the crook of her elbow in an attempt to block out the sun. "Your mum's making us breakfast?"

"Uh huh."

"That's nice of her." There's a longish pause before, "I hope she likes me."

Seamus rolls onto his side, propping his head up with his hands. "What's not to like?"

Lavender shrugs her shoulders in an oddly neutral sort of way but doesn't answer him as she reaches out to weave her fingers through his.

Seamus eyes her speculatively, a crease forming between his eyebrows. "Lavender," he starts questioningly. "Are you... _worried_ about impressing me mam?"

Coffee brown eyes peek at him through curly tresses. "You think I'm being silly, don't you."

Actually, Seamus thinks his girlfriend is being ridiculous, but he's definitely not stupid enough to say that to her face. Of course, Seamus knows both women better than they know each other, so he already has a good idea of how breakfast is going to play out, but he makes sure to choose his wording carefully before he replies.

"I think you just want to make a good impression."

She rolls her eyes. "Which is a very chivalrous way of saying 'you're being silly'."

A lighthearted retort dies in his throat as Seamus realizes that Lavender's nails aren't digging into his skin as they normally do when she gets nervous, and he can't help but frown as he runs the pad of his thumb over Lavender's uncharacteristically short nails. And that would be more than enough proof on its own, but it's not the evidence of nail biting that gives Seamus an inkling of just how much Lavender's fretted over this meeting his mother, it's the not-quite-hidden glimmer of self-consciousness that slightly dulls her normally vibrant orbs.

"You've got nothing to worry about Lav, because she's going to adore you."

Lavender blinks a few times at the quiet certainty in his voice, but her smile suddenly becomes softer and much less forced.

Half an hour later, Seamus, Lavender, and Seamus's mother Leanne are just finishing breakfast, the two women are chatting amicably as they sip their tea. What they're discussing, Seamus has no idea, but he he's content in knowing that his instincts were correct. After all, how could two serial gossipers _not_ get along?

"What're you kids planning on doing today?" Leanne asks curiously.

"I thought that maybe we could go down to the village today, if you're up to it, I mean." Seamus directs this last bit to Lavender, knowing firsthand how late her portkey got in last night.

Lavender nods excitedly, but Leanne looks surprised. "I didn't know you could ride!" This is also directed to Lavender who looks at the older woman slightly confused.

"What, a broomstick? Of course I can: they teach that in first year." Lavender says, but Seamus's mother shakes her head.

"No, not a broomstick," she starts again. "Can you ride a horse?"

"Ride a horse? Why would I need to be able to ride a -"Lavender's fork falls out of her hand with a clatter, her brown eyes suddenly as large as galleons. "Merlin's pants. You have a horse?"

When Seamus nods the blonde lets out a high-pitched squeal. "You have a HORSE! We're going horseback riding?" Lavender hugs the sandy-haired man around the neck, crushing his face against her collarbone in her glee.

She releases Seamus just as suddenly as she'd embraced him. "I'm going to go get dressed," she declares, giving him a quick peck on the lips before rushing out of the kitchen, muttering excitedly all the way.

Leanne turns to her son, an amused smile quirking the edges of her mouth. "Well, she seemed… enthused."

Seamus shakes his head fondly. "She's a real animal lover, Lavender," he says by way of explanation.

"Really? I couldn't tell."

The stable is slightly behind and to the left to the one-story stone house belonging to Leanne Agar, so it's no surprise that Lavender didn't notice it when she portkeyed into the uneven front lawn late the previous night.

Seamus can hear Lavender's pink trainer clad feet tapping anxiously against the cobblestone as he leads the Connemara out into the back garden. (It had been very, _very_ hard to convince Lavender that no, she really did not need to pack enough clothes to dress all of Wales for a one-week trip, and even harder to sell was the undeniable truth that the rocky terrain of Seamus's hometown would render the sky-high heels his girlfriend tends to favor not only uncomfortable, but downright dangerous.)

She gasps. "Oh my. It's so-"

"She's," Seamus interrupts, not comfortable with calling the graceful animal an 'it'.

"She's," Lavender acknowledges. "She's beautiful." Lavender glances at her boyfriend apprehensively, and at Seamus's reassuring smile she approaches cautiously.

"What breed is she?" she asks, wisely staying in the mare's limited range of vision as she strokes her dark mane.

"Clover here is a Connemara, which is a breed native to this part of Ireland. We've had her since I was little kid."

"Clover?" Lavender asks, trying and failing to hide a smirk. "You named your horse _Clover_?"

"It's a perfectly reasonable name," Seamus says defensively.

"Well _Clover,_ " Seamus doesn't miss the sarcastic emphasis here, "Is an absolutely spectacular horse. No, wait," Lavender eyes the reddish-brown mare again and amends her statement before Seamus can correct her. "She's a spectacular pony."

Seamus adjusts Clover's harness as he brings up an important point. "You never did answer though: have you ever gone horseback riding?"

Lavender's expression goes slightly wistful. "No. I've always wanted to though."

"Looks like today's your lucky day then Lav. The village isn't all that far away, but most of the townspeople are Muggles and the terrain's too rocky to comfortably walk." He straightens up. "Clover's the most reliable form of transportation.

The experienced rider shows the shorter witch how to seat herself on top of the pony safely before mounting in front of her with practiced ease.

"Don't worry though," Seamus starts as Lavender grips him tightly around the waist. "We don't have to go super-fast or anyth-"

"Hyah!" Lavender shouts, nudging the Connemara in the sides with her heels.

The pony takes off like a shot, and Seamus can't help but think that his girlfriend is really something special.

Seamus wasn't lying when he said that the village wasn't very far away, so when the first of the peat-thatched houses come into view, he slows the pony down to an ambling walk. And despite the fact that Seamus and his mam live on the outskirts of this tiny town, they _do_ come in rather often for supplies and such, so all of the locals are familiar with the twenty-year-old.

Mrs. McLoughlin looks up from the laundry she's folding when she hears the soft clip-clop of Clover's hooves."Cén chaoi 'bhfuil tú ?"

"Tá mé go maith," Seamus says, waving at her as they pass.

Mr. O'Brian looks up from where he balances gingerly on his ladder, a large hammer wielded in his right hand.

"Seamus! Ní fhaca mé le fada thu! Cén chaoi a bhfuil tú?"

"Tá mé go maith, go raibh maith agat, agus tú fein?"

"Tá mé ag déanamh go maith, go raibh maith agat chun iarraidh!" the older man shouts back.

Lavender tugs at his shirt sleeve. "What're you saying?" she asks curiously.

"What? Oh, they're saying hi, asking how I've been; just stuff like that."

Lavender frowns. "I'd forgotten about the language barrier," she mutters more to herself than Seamus. "I won't understand what anyone's saying. Can you translate for me?"

"I don't actually speak very much Irish," Seamus confesses, looking apologetic.

"But you just –"

He shakes his head. "I know the simple stuff: hello, goodbye, 'Merry Christmas' and all that, but I'm not considered fluent by any sense of the term." Seamus tilts his head slightly as he thinks of something else. "And swear words. I know _lots_ of swear words."

Lavender isn't willing to let the matter go so easily. "What's the longest phrase you can say in Irish?" she asks.

The answer practically rolls off Seamus's tongue. "Is sionnach tú, sionnach sean agus glic gan aon dabht. Ná bí ag magadh fúim! Tá a fhios agam go bhfuil tú ag séitéireacht! Táim cinnte gur ghoid tú na píosaí nuair a bhfuair mé mo deoch nua! Ba mhaith liom ag imirt an chluiche arís! Anois!"

Lavender blinks. "I've no idea what you just said, but it sounded like a lot to me."

Seamus rolls his eyes. "Irish doesn't translate into English very well, but I basically said: "You're a fox, an old and sneaky fox, no doubt about it. Don't mock me! I know that you're cheating! I'm sure you stole the pieces when I got my new drink! I want to play the game again! Now!"

"That seems oddly specific."

Seamus inclines his head towards an elderly man playing checkers on his front porch. "That's Mr. Connolly. He's pants at checkers but he challenges his neighbor, Mr. Keenan, to a match every Saturday. He loses every time, and he's convinced that Mr. Keenan cheats. Mr. Connolly always says what I just did after Mr. Keenan wins.

Lavender looks perplexed. "He says that exact same phrase _every_ time he loses?"

Seamus shrugs. "He's not very creative."

"Are all Irish people that silly?" Lavender asks, choking back a laugh.

"You're dating an Irish person and you're currently in Western Ireland: based on your experiences with me, what do you think?"

The blonde witch pretends to consider this carefully. "You're right; you _are_ all that silly Seamus," she answers decisively.

She adjusts her grip on his waist and rests her head on his shoulder. "I guess it's a good thing I love you."

Seamus grins but doesn't reply as they continue to ride towards town's square. After all this time, he surely hopes that Lavender loves him.

(After all, he's had a ring picked out for almost two weeks now.)


	10. February 23rd, 2001

**February 23rd, 2001**

Lavender is just putting the finishing touches on her hair when she hears the familiar tinkling that signals a floo call. She ignores it though, certain that her fiancé will answer it as he's downstairs and closer. She pauses her primping when Seamus appears in the bathroom doorway, a slight frown pulling at his handsome features as he fiddles with his shirt collar.

"That was Fergus," he starts with purposeful vagueness.

This immediately catches Lavender's attention. Seamus has never been one to beat around bush, unless of course, he has a reason to fear Lavender's reaction.

"He's got some sort of important work function tonight and the babysitter had to cancel because she's ill with vanishing sickness; he needs someone to watch his two year-old."

Lavender stares at him blankly. _'Please don't let that mean what I think it means, please don't let that mean what I think it –'_

He takes a deep breath before, "I'm the only one he considered trustworthy enough to bring in last minute."

Seamus studies Lavender carefully as he waits for her response. Instead of being angry or frustrated like he expected her to be, her expression takes the resigned pout of poorly hidden disappointment, which somehow manages to be much worse.

"So… our date night?"

"I'm sorry love. You met Claudia last New Year's: you know how she is. She's finicky about everything; twice as much when it comes to her kid. She refuses point blank to allow some 'random miscreant' to watch her 'precious daffodil' unsupervised for three hours while they're in London, and Fergus says that missing the gala is not an option."

Lavender is very familiar with Claudia's peculiarities. If there was ever a way to be good-naturedly disdainful, Claudia Levy-Agar somehow manages to pull it off.

"But," she starts again desperately. "Isn't- isn't there _anyone_ else?"

"What was I supposed to do Lav, say no?" Seamus says, pausing in the middle of unfastening his dressy green button down with a pained look on his face. "He's family."

"No- no of course not," Lavender says. "You did the right thing."

"So you're not angry?" Seamus asks uncertainly.

Lavender smiles reassuringly. "I'm not angry, promise. Just a bit disappointed, that's all." She tries to behave casually as she drums her left hand against the countertop. "I'm not sure if you remembered, but today is the-"

"-Anniversary of the night we got engaged," Seamus finishes quietly.

Blue eyes meet brown, and it's then that Lavender realizes that Seamus is just as upset about having to cancel their plans as she is. He opens his mouth to say something else, but Lavender cuts in before he can get the words out.

"You don't need to apologize again Seamus," she starts knowingly, and the much taller man falters, looking sheepish. "It's not your fault the sitter caught vanishing sickness, and considering the date, I'm sure Fergus had to twist your arm a fair bit before you agreed to watch baby Aisling."

It's this last part that seems to finally convince him of her honesty, and it's with obvious relief that Seamus continues to shrug out of his evening clothes. He answers her next question without prompting. "Claudia and Fergus are leaving in twenty minutes, and I need to change into something more baby-friendly," he explains.

Lavender hums in acknowledgement before turning back to her large vanity, suddenly feeling thankful that she had been running a bit behind and hadn't yet started to apply any makeup that would no doubt be too heavy for the sudden change of events. She takes a long moment to consider the lengthy blonde locks of hair she just spent the last half-hour painstakingly straightening, but in the end she decides to tie it back in a simple low ponytail, as she would prefer to avoid getting scalped by a two year-old if at all possible.

She moves back into the master bedroom with growing optimism. Her glance at the form-fitting black dress draped across the queen-sized bed is only slightly longing before she turns her attention to more important matters; namely, finding a pair of jeans that she wouldn't mind getting dirty.

It's this rummaging through her dresser drawers that catches Seamus's attention.

"Erm, Lavender?" he asks hesitantly. "What're you doing?"

"Looking for some casual clothes," she replies pleasantly.

"Why?"

She glances over her shoulder, the incredulous look on her face an automatic response. "Do you expect me to finger paint in a skirt and high heels?"

"Are you coming with me?"

"Of course I am silly! It's our anniversary!"

She looks up at him again through her eyelashes, suddenly feeling a bit shy and sentimental. "And… it's not as if it matters what we do tonight, right? As long as we're together?"

Seamus graces her with a small, fond smile, "Of course it doesn't."

Fergus and Claudia have one of the oddest relationships that Lavender Brown has ever seen, and that's really saying something, because she's had to deal with the dysfunctional friendship between Dean Thomas and Luna Lovegood for the better part of the last three years.

It's no surprise then that when they finally arrive, Claudia is impeccably dressed and waiting patiently for her husband: a simple clutch in one hand, a giggling baby resting against her opposite hip, while Fergus is still searching through the house in vain for a pair of matching socks. Lavender's not really sure how they make their relationship work, as he's overflowing with immaturity and dirty jokes and she suffers from a type A personality in the first degree, but they've always seemed happy, so she tries her best not to judge them.

"Seamus, Lavender!" the auburn haired witch exclaims with relief. "Thank Merlin you're here!"

"Hello Claudia," Seamus greets with a cautious hug, taking care not to squash Aisling. "How are you?"

"I'm doing quite well, thank you for asking. Though admittedly, I'd be a bit better if Fergus could pull himself together before we end up late."

The older wizard stumbles into the room as if summoned by the sound of his name, grinning victoriously as he laces up his sleek leather dress shoes.

"Found them!" he announces with the grandiose air of a person who'd invented a spell to conjure gold. "We can leave now."

Claudia rolls her eyes at her husband's antics, but her expression becomes suddenly anxious. She hugs Aisling tighter for a moment before she hands over her daughter to Lavender.

"Thank you so much for doing this for us," she says gratefully. "I know the request was ridiculously last minute."

"It's not a big deal," Lavender replies, "After all, we hope that you'd return the favor if we ever need you to."

"Ooohhh!" Fergus says, waggling his eyebrows. "Is there something you'd like to _tell_ me cousin?"

Lavender blushes as Seamus scowls. "Shut your face Fergus. That's none of your business."

"Aisling has already been fed and bathed," Claudia cuts in firmly, throwing chiding look in her husband's direction, "So you don't need to worry about that. She'll probably get tired in about an hour, so you shouldn't really have to do anything besides put her to bed and make sure she doesn't hurt herself. Aisy's very good about sleeping through the night, so that shouldn't be a problem, but if she _does_ happen to wake up and start crying, just rock her gently until she falls back to sleep."

Claudia's on a roll now and the engaged couple pays close attention to her precise instructions. "Diapers, extra clothes, and other supplies are all in a cupboard on the right side of the nursery, but feel free to 'accio' something if you don't have time to look for it. There are age lines around the toilet, the dust bin, the litter box, the fireplace and the front and back doors, but keep an eye out please. Aisling can and will stick her hands into anything if you give her half a chance."

The redhead murmurs under her breathe as she ensures her thoroughness in briefing the pair babysitting her darling. "I think that's everything of importance, and if you're unsure about something, go with your gut; I trust your instincts."

Claudia smiles warmly and at the same time, two things happen at once. Fergus's watch begins to ding loudly, a last minute signal to hurry up, and somehow, strangely, a much subtler tone begins to emit seemingly from Aisling herself.

"She needs to be changed," Claudia states, transforming from calm to panicky in half a second. "I'll just go and…" She reaches out for her daughter but Lavender leans out of her reach.

"We've got it under control Claudia," Lavender says firmly. "We can handle a dirty nappy. Now go before you two end up late."

Claudia gives the trio one last anxious glance before she takes Fergus's proffered elbow and the two apparate out of existence.

"You know how to change a nappy?" Seamus questions. "I didn't know that."

"Can't you?" the blonde asks in return.

"Well… no," he admits.

"If you can't change a nappy, then how did you expect to take care of the little one for the next three hours without me?"

"It can't possibly be that hard," Seamus says confidently.

Lavender shrugs. "You'd be surprised at how squirmy a baby can be."

Seamus stares at her for a long moment before blurting out with startling conviction, "Teach me how."

"To change a nappy?"

"Yeah," he nods, his voice slightly hoarse. "It'll be good practice, you know. For… later."

His gaze drifts down to Lavender's collar bone. She's sure that he's thinking of the rose gold engagement ring that hangs there because she hadn't gotten around to putting back on after getting home from work, and the wedding scheduled on the first day of spring, and futures that once seemed so far away. And there are many different ways that Lavender could respond to Seamus's statement, but she decides that for once, maybe… less is more.

"Okay."


End file.
